Free Brass Diva: The Life and Legends of Ethel Merman by Caryl Flinn Page A

no one was prepared for what happened when it opened in New
York's three-year-old Alvin Theatre.
    Composer George Gershwin had been conducting his own work for most
of 193o, and on that warm October night, he did just that with Girl Crazy,
leading an orchestra that included Red Nichols, Benny Goodman, Gene
Krupa, Glenn Miller, and Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey. At the onstage piano
was Roger Edens, sitting in for Al Siegel, who had called in ill, some say with
a case of stage fright. Agnes and Edward Zimmermann were in the audience
to see their daughter; Siegel may or may not have actually come to watch. Producer Alex Aarons, a nervous wreck, hid out backstage in the packed house.
    The first act was going well. Merman sang the second to last song as Kate,
in Danny's new Arizona club. "Sam and Delilah" recounts the story of a "loose
woman who falls for a married man and refuses to let him return to his wife
alive" (one reviewer called it a "mixture of Wild West, Negro spirituals and
Broadway `blues'11).5 The audience loved it. Recalled Ethel, "Everybody
screamed and you know, I thought something fell down or something, but it
was only the audience reaction to a young girl coming out singing a song." Ira
Gershwin was especially relieved, since he felt he hadn't done his best with the
lyrics: "placing. . . `hooch' and `kootch' on long full notes of a slow-blues
tune.... I got away with it thanks to Merman's ability to sustain any note any
human or humane length of time. Few singers could give you koo-for seven
beats ... and come through with a terrifically-tch at the end."6
    But it was when the twenty-two-year-old stenographer reemerged for the
act's last number that Broadway history was made. Wearing a simple red
blouse and black slit skirt, Ethel sang "I Got Rhythm." Ira's lyrics brimmed
with confidence and gusto-no half-blue lament here. (His quick staccato
words had not been easy to come up with, though: the dummy lyric used for a long time was "Roly-poly / Eating slowly / Ravioli / Better watch your diet
or bust." )7 Merman's voice was perfect for its energetic rhythm and almost
pentatonic sound. With the song's high ratio of notes to lyrics (four notes for
three words for the title refrain alone), a singer without Merman's crisp diction or unable to handle fast pacing would sink like a stone. Ethel sailed.
With galelike power, she gave it her all, holding onto that I-I-I-I for over sixteen (some say up to thirty-two) measures.' One writer said it was "a feat
equivalent to swimming the length of an Olympic-size pool at least twice
without coming up for air." The audience went wild, leaping to its feet, and
cheered for more. "By the fourth bar, the audience was going nuts," recalls
Roger Edens. "She did about ten encores" before the show could go on.9

    Dorothy Fields, who was in the audience that night, has said, "I've never
seen anything like it on the stage except Mary Martin when she did My Heart
Belongs. It ... was an ovation like you just can't believe. And she seemed a
little stunned herself, and you know, she stood there not quite believing it.
And encore after encore.... No one had ever held a note like that ... beyond the length of endurance."10
    First-act closers are traditionally show-stoppers, but that night "I Got
Rhythm" was less a stopper than an explosion. Shell-shocked producer Aarons
practically collapsed-he thought a gunshot had gone off-and then saw that
the shot was the roar of the crowd. "American audiences don't cheer. Italian
audiences at the Scala in Milan-yes, but American audiences at the Alvin in
New York ... ," he said later to Guy Bolton. i i When the first-act curtain came
down, he, Freedley, Bolton, McGowan, and the Gershwins knew the show
was a hit. An excited George Gershwin ran to Ethel's dressing room to dispense a critical piece of counsel: never, he told her, take a singing lesson.
    Later, Gershwin said that he lost three pounds that evening just from